


Finally Caught

by misha_collins_butt



Series: And the Stars Will Fade and the Moon Will Fall but Please Stay With Me Tonight [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean is caught, First Kiss, Heated Kiss, M/M, Profound Wincest, Smutty, Top!Sam, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 05:07:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20285890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_collins_butt/pseuds/misha_collins_butt
Summary: Sam catches Dean diddling a stranger in their hotel room and it leads to...things





	Finally Caught

Sam walks in just as Dean screams his name and cums _everywhere_, including across the chest of the rando he picked up at the bar.

The guy didn't understand why Dean wanted to call him Sam but he didn't seem to care so long as he got a free hook up with no strings attached.

And now, as Dean's eyes widen, horrified, at the sight of Sam looking at him with an unreadable expression, Dean's stomach attempts a backflip, fails miserably, and drops into his guts.

"What the fuck," Sam spits poisonously, dropping the duffle bag next to the coat hanger. He repeats, "What the fuck."

His eyes dart between the two men and Dean shrinks back into the bed, frantically grasping for anything to cover himself and finding nothing.

The stranger hops to his feet and gets dressed quickly, fleeing without another word, and leaving Dean to his own devices.

"Dean?"

Dean swallows hard, trying to stifle the blush he feels creeping up his neck.

"What's going on here?"

Dean curls in on himself as much as physically possible for someone not even flexible enough to navigate a busy street.

But Sam just keeps going.

"Did you hear me? What is going on," Sam demands, taking a step forward.

Dean launches himself over to the other side of the bed and snatches his clothes off the floor. He dresses himself hurriedly and doesn't turn around when he's done to face the mistake he's made.

He instead stands and heads for the kitchenette, but a hand stops him dead in his tracks. The hand yanks him around and forces him to face his worst fear: Sam, sickened and angry and disgusted by Dean's very presence.

"Did I just hear what I think I heard?" Sam growls lowly, hand wrapped in the collar of Dean's shirt.

Dean makes himself look everywhere but Sam's face - he glances at the floor, the door to the bathroom, the ceiling, the messy bed.

Sam shoves him - hard - and his back hits the wall, so he has nowhere to go when Sam pushes his face far too close to Dean's, who lets his eyes drop to Sam's lips and licks his own, before realising what he's doing and making the extraordinary mistake of daring to meet Sam's eyes. He regrets it immediately.

Sam squints as understanding dawns and he releases Dean's shirt, all of the anger draining out of him. He stands, back straight, eyes trained downward as he processes new, probably scarring information. 

"Would ya say somethin'," Sam whispers defeatedly, lifting his hazel gaze to Dean's. "Anything."

"I wouldn't know what to tell you--"

"The truth!" Sam snaps, advancing on Dean again. His hand comes up to grab Dean's shirt once more, but he seems to think better of it and recoils. "The truth, Dean. Tell me the truth."

Sam is hurt, it would be obvious to anyone. But it's harder when it's the person you grew up being hounded to protect and love.

Dean frowns, heart pounding a beat unknown, mind a sheet of paper scribbled into oblivion.

It's silent save for their harsh breathing, breaking the still air which slithers around their necks like nooses.

This is Dean's death and he's tied the rope himself.

Not how he planned to go out.

"I think you already know," Dean finally whispers, resigning himself to wallowing in shame. 

When he peers up at Sam, the younger man is subtly nodding, a resolute pinch to his lips flattened into a line.

Then his arms are flying up and there are hands on Dean's neck but he's not being choked, because there are lips on his lips and they're soft and pleading and fierce and stubborn and they're Sam's lips. Sam's lips are on Dean's lips and it's not very brotherly, what he's doing with his tongue.

And Sam's hands skim down Dean's ribs and squeeze his waist, and then find their way beneath Dean's shirt and ghost across his skin and he's shivering and holy shit does Sam have a boner? 

"You jerk," Sam breathes heavily, lips to Dean's ear, fingers sneaking just below the waistline of Dean's sweats. "You never said a thing."

"I thought-" Dean gasps when Sam cups his aching erection, jaw momentarily disabled and locked into a silent moan, "-that you would think I'm a freak."

"Have you met me," Sam murmurs, voice husky and dark, forehead pressed to Dean's and lips just barely skimming his. "When it comes to freak - baby, I'm the king."

They find each other's skin with teeth and lips and hands and onto the gravestone of history they write their own fucked up story, and they write it in each other's flesh and on each other's lips, and they write it with the way they breathe into each other and the way air grazes sheath and they are both swords made from blood and ground from ancient stone and sought after by the ones of the dark. And together they will rule the universe, through deep and shallow, between the stars and in the depths of the black between them and nothing is out of reach so long as they have each other in hands, brothers in arms and lovers at heart.

Fucked up though they are, they will not be brought down.

Because their kind of fucked up is the kind that's too arrogant to be dulled by anything less than if they were to outdo themselves.


End file.
